An Innocent Exterior
by 33Protons
Summary: [Ishvalan AU, mostly fma03 canon.] Edward and Alphonse Elric were born into a world that seemed it would never accept them. But why not? They were people too, weren't they? As they dig deeper into the corruption that shaped this state, they find the irony in their search for the Philosopher's Stone, and learn that not everything is as it seems.
1. To Start Anew

**I've looked at the Ishavalan AU a few times now, and always thought of how interesting it would be, but I never thought to write it until now. I'm glad I started this, and I'm aiming to finish it. **

* * *

When Trisha Elric was eighteen years old, Juliette Douglas shot an Ishvalan child.

It was labelled both an accident and the cause of the war, which placed the guilt on Ms Douglas while simultaneously removing the blame. Perhaps some had debated the incident's accidental status, but the official story that had been released said it was, and so that's what the public believed.

In reality, the cause of an entire civil war couldn't have been such a small thing as this incident. Strife had been brewing since Ishval was added into the state; the old-fashioned, religion-based culture of Ishval clashed with the scientific and industrialized main body of Amestris. The first offense occurred just a few months after the annexation, when an alchemist tried to "introduce" his science to the Ishavlan people. What this alchemist didn't know was that the people of Ishval's religion rejected alchemy for going against their god. The alchemist was chased away with a few harsh words.

If the Amestrian government had then realized these two different ways of life could coexist within the borders of the state, the seven years war might have been avoided in the first place — if only. People fear what they don't see in themselves, and so the Ishvalans were seen as something removed from the rest of the Amestrian population. That was why the fighting had begun — the Ishvalans were to be feared.

Regardless, after this incident the fighting broke out within a year. The military explained its rash show of force by publicizing the idea that the war had been the main fault of the Ishvalans. Since they had reacted violently, the occupation was necessary to put down the unrest.

The war escalated rapidly. What began with a disagreement of ways turned into an unrest, then to a full blown civil uprising. Though no one expected it to become so violent, everyone knew from the start that no good would come from the differences of the conflicting peoples.

This was why Trisha only spent the first fifteen or so years of her life in Ishval. After tensions began to grow in the newly annexed state, her mother and father thought it best that the family leave. They lived on the western edge of the Ishval territory, and would be hit first if fighting did break out. However, the suspicions spreading about the Amestrian military against the Ishvalans made it so leaving for the west would be difficult for any of them, much less for all three. Despite this, the fact still remained that Trisha's parents did not want their daughter mixed up in anything that was to come in the following years.

The most logical conclusion was for Trisha to leave on her own.

But where would she go?

Though they were far removed from the central city of Ishval, there were several perks to living on the western edge. Firstly: there was peace and quiet that came from the lack of a city's population. Second: though it was rare, sometimes people would wander through the western towns as they traveled through East Amestris. Many were friendly — some weren't, but that's besides the point.

A few years ago, a young doctor-in-training and his mother had visited the Elric family's town. The mother was a free-spirited woman who had spent her earlier days exploring the country; she settled down some time ago and didn't travel as much anymore, due to her age. Now her son was twenty-four, and taking a break after his first two years of medical school. The duo was using this break to traverse the east and use their combined knowledge to help wherever they could. The majority of the jobs they took suited the young doctor's expertise. There wasn't a town they visited, though, where the doctor introduced himself and someone leapt at the chance to employ the mother's services. After all, her adventuring mixed with her talent and skill for automail mechanics had made her famous in her youth.

It was only by chance that these two met the Elrics. No one remembered exactly how it happened, only that Trisha had managed to inflict some mild injury upon herself the day they visited, and the doctor had sprung at the oppurtunity to help. He introduced himself as Urey Rockbell, and his mother as Pinako Rockbell. They were from a small town not too far west from here, named Resembool. The two families hit it off quickly, the Rockbells ended up extending their time in the town by several days, and when they did leave, the two families kept in contact by letters and sporadic visits over two years.

When Trisha Elric was fifteen, her parents made the most difficult, yet obvious, decision of their lives.

The young girl packed a small suitcase of things and bid her parents a long and tearful goodbye. Trisha would have to find her way across the recently-dissolved (yet very much still existent) border of the Ishval territory; somewhere past there Urey Rockbell would be waiting to take her back to Resembool. Nothing had happened between Amestris and Ishval - yet - but tensions were already high even so soon after the joining of the two territories. The plan held many risks, but it was the best option the Elrics seemed to have. Trisha was mature beyond her years, but she did not realize that she would never see her parents again. Perhaps that was why her mother has broken into sobs, clutching her only daughter with arms that threatened to never let go. Maybe that was why her dad thought it appropriate to give her that small momento of a ring, the one with no decorations other than the etched words of Ishvala on the inside face, a gesture that confused Trisha at the time. It wouldn't be for many years that she realized it meant, "Remember where you come from."

When Trisha Elric lost sight of her childhood home, she had already taken the last glimpse of it she would ever get to have.

* * *

Her first three days in Resembool were the hardest. They seemed to last forever, yet they passed in a blur and she didn't remember much of them at all. Pinako was always a room away, leaving the girl ago herself but never too far if Trisha needed her.

Even after she'd mostly adjusted to her new life, she rarely went outside. Resembool was small, the Rockbells well known and trusted, and the people friendly. Regardless, the unfortunate fact remained that Trisha's physical differences elicited the stares of the townsfolk. Some were only curious. Others were mildly suspicious. It wasn't that Trisha especially stood out in the population of Resembool. Her dark complexioned skin was on the lighter side of Ishvalan genetics, and the east boasted a wide range of olive-toned peoples. She didn't have the stereotypical white hair many associated with Ishvalans, either - her hair was a dark, chocolately color.

Her deep red eyes gave her away as an outsider, and others latched onto that. People, uninformed about cultures other than their own, saw those red eyes, their brains dug up what nternalized thoughts and prejudices they had, and they responded with various emotions.

And so as the result of the collection of these factors, Trisha became shy and removed from the world outside her new home. She preferred not to spend much time around Resembool, and anything besides that was out of the question — the talk of the whole state was the happenings of the war, and hearing about that made her sick.

Over time, Pinako became something like another mother to Trisha, one who never took the place of her own, who she still remembered and loved very much. Pinako almost seemed like a mother who existed in a separate reality from Trisha's old life. Urey changed to something between a best friend and a brother.

When Trisha Elric was eighteen, Urey introduced her to Sarah, his new girlfriend. The two girls quickly grew to be close friends. A little over a year later, Trisha was one of the most important guests at their wedding.

She worried it might be weird for her to continue living in the house of her newlywed best friends. The concern didn't plague her for long, though.

When Trisha Elric was nineteen, she met Pinako's old drinking buddy, a man named Van Hoenheim.

Though both Hoenheim and Trisha each had an extraodinary life, their story together was simple. The best description may be to only call it "fate".

When Trisha Elric was twenty-one, Edward Elric was born.

He would grow up as a scientific mind who denounced fate, especially since the so-called "fateful" meeting of his parents would end bitterly.

But, without his parents, he and his younger brother, Alphonse, would not have been born. Their tale would be an ironic tragedy, one to make them question all that they knew and believed (or did not believe) in.

Including fate.

* * *

**This is my first published fic, so I apologize for any formatting errors. **

**Like I said, I aim to finish this. Right now I'm just trying to figure out exactly where I want to go with this. It won't be exactly like the events of the anime, don't worry. I just need to think about how much I want to change and how I want it to change. **

**This is a difficult fic. Race was already so prevalent in fma, but here it is even more so. I'm trying to use to expand upon the theme and what was said regarding it in the narrative. I'm trying my best, but I appreciate any feedback ! **

**Thanks for reading ~ **


	2. To Offer an Option

**A huge thanks to everyone who's read, favorited, followed, or reviewed - it really means a lot and motivates me to keep writing!  
**

**This chapter has a little more on my Ishavalan genetics headcanons, so no, none of that is canon by my knowledge. Also there's a few lines I took that were said in the anime, which I might do later on too. I don't take credit for that writing, obviously !**

* * *

_No matter what anyone says, never think badly of yourself. I love both of you, and even if I'm the only one, I love you more than you'll ever know... _

"_MOM !"_ the scream pierced the air, even louder than all the electrified noise around him.

_Always take care of each other..._

He reached up with his right hand to push the blond bangs out of his face, searching desperately for the person he'd just risked everything to bring back. She had to come back.

Another voice shrieked beside him. It was his brother's. He yanked his hand away from his face and shoved it in his brother's direction, but it was too late. Alphonse faded away in less than a moment.

Ed fell to the floor. Not from the shock of watching his brother be deconstructed before his eyes. His left leg had just given out from under him, shattering like glass into a hundred different pieces, all swept away by some unknown force. His face contorted with pain, and when his eyes opened again, it was all gone.

The entire scene Ed had been living had disappeared. It was replaced by a white landscape, void of everything, or so he thought, until a creak of heavy stone doors sounded behind him.

The very essence of the door reached out and dragged him through the gateway.

Then, after the horrifying, indescribable sight he would later try to define as "everything at once", he was thrown back into the terror of reality, his newfound knowledge doing nothing to stop the transmutation that was failing before him.

Whatever that was, it was not _her_.

It suddenly dawned on him that he had traded Alphonse for this monstrosity. It was his fault entirely. Al wanted nothing to do with this, but now Al was paying for their mistakes.

The armor standing by the side wall crashed to the floor. As panicked as he was, it was a wonder that Ed had managed to string together a transmutation circle in his head, relying on his new knowledge given to him by the gate. He scrawled it with the shaky hand he was desperately trying to keep steady, in the blood now pooling around him in copious amounts. Now the only thing he needed to worry about was the price of his brother's soul.

The exchange was fitting. A literal right arm for a figurative "right arm" — wasn't that a fair trade?

* * *

Edward and Alphonse Elric, only a year apart, had grown up to be a close pair. They fought over everything, from the attention of their mom to the slightest argument between themselves, yet strangely, each punch thrown only seemed to bring them closer. Big Brother Edward would always fetch his sulking little sibling from the river's edge and they'd have made up by the time they had walked home.

It was the fateful day their mother had let them into their father's study that the real fist-fights began. After years of asking what was behind the door, the boys dove headfirst into the texts; either their mom had break up the fights over this reading or another, or they sat silently in their own piles of books until mom called for dinner. She had never explained to her boys why she'd been so hesitant to unlock that door despite all their persistence. While Ed was in his younger years he would simply assume it had to do with Hoenheim's sudden disappearance so many years ago before he brushed away the thought. However, it was quite the opposite — Trisha would have loved to open that door once in a while, even just to see the warm, familiar sight of books on the shelves, strewn on the desk, notes he didn't take still filed away.

She'd already accepted the fact many years ago that she didn't belong to Ishval anymore. She'd always found it sadly ironic she'd ended up with an alchemist, someone who would have been strongly looked down upon and, with more recent events, hated in Ishval. But, her boys... being half of Her and half of Hoenheim, did they belong either?

It was at that point she changed her mind. She refused to believe Ed and Al weren't Ishvalan, even if alchemy was in their blood. They had the right to where they came from. By that logic, though, she was still Ishvalan — even if she'd gone against her upbringing. She'd learned there were good alchemists, ones who didn't play God, and so there had to be an exception to the rule. It was almost a relief to tell herself that.

This was why she avoided opening the door. They were Hoenheim's kids, and she knew they'd want to teach themselves alchemy and soon as their little hands opened to the first page of one of those books they couldn't be stopped. Trisha didn't want to run their lives, but she did want to teach them of their heritage. How could she explain they were learning a practice that went against the teachings of Ishvala?

She never did. In fact, she never had the chance to explain much to them at all. By the time Ed and Al were old enough to understand what she told them, the disease she'd contracted years ago on her abrupt move west was finally taking over. While she lay dying in her bed, she managed to tell them only the beginning.

_We are Ishvalan. We come from where the sun sinks into the sand rather than the sea, where the weather is warm and the hearts are warmer. The desert people rose cities from nothing, drawing on the strength given to us by the God Ishvala. We live our own way, and though it is different, it is right for us. You have to know that some might hate you for who you are. Remember that your skin is merely your shield from the sun, not the indicator of the goodness in your soul. Your eyes are for judging all equally, though many will not return the favor. No matter what anyone says, never think badly of yourself. I love both of you, and even if I'm the only one, I love you more than you'll ever know. Always take care of each other. _

Never knowing the true extent of their offense, the boys schemed of using alchemy to bring their mother back.

* * *

The only thing more shocking and unsettling than the scene before Pinako — a metal suit, carrying a bloodied Edward-minus-two-limbs and kneeling just outside the door in the pouring rain, pleading for her to "save his brother" — was the letter she'd received several years ago, stamped with the seal of Amestris.

"A-Alphonse?" Winry asked in a trembling voice from the back of the room.

The metal suit nodded. "It's a long story... but..." He thrust his arms, and Ed, towards them. A few drops of blood hit the floor. "Please..."

The two automail mechanics went to work bandaging up the broken child. Meanwhile, a young man walked with slow and measured steps towards the yellow house at the end of the path. Though he was anxious to knock on the front door, he was also hesitant. With each step he changed his mind, debatated his motives, contemplated if this was the right thing to do or if he should just go wait for the last train back to Central.

But Fate was still pulling the strings of this story. Whatever motives drove Roy Mustang to visit the small town of Resembool that day also compelled him to gather all his false bravado and barge through the little wooden door and into the room where Ed and Al were.

"Who are you?!" demanded the old woman Pinako.

The man retrieved his silver pocket watch and dangled it before her in one swift movement. This only served to enrage Pinako even further.

"State Alchemists aren't welcome here! Get out of my house!"

The man smirked with a sad look in his eyes, then looked up, his face turning serious again. "My name is Roy Mustang. I came here looking for their father," he motioned towards Edward, sleeping in a spare bed, "But if these two can attempt human transmutation and survive, then their dad may have dropped a rung on my priorities list."

Ed's eyes fluttered open. He turned his head, slowly, to look at the intruder. Mustang locked eyes with him, and that's when he noticed. At first glance, the eyes appeared brown. When he looked closer, though, he realized they were actually had a reddish tint to them.

Roy narrowed his eyes at the boy, a new thought forming in his mind. He didn't beat around the bush. "What color are your eyes?" he asked the boy quietly.

It was Alphonse that spoke up from the side of the room. "In genetics," the armor began, "There is a gene that can be inherited and 'activated', for lack of a better word, which adds a red color to the hair. The underlying color is still inherited from the parents as usual. In Ishval, the red hair gene is not prominent, rather it is common for a red eye gene to be inherited and activated. It works much of the same way — this is why there are varying degrees to the redness of eyes in Ishval. Brother inherited our dad's gold eyes and our mother's red-eye gene."

Mustang was taken aback by the armor's miniature speech, because Alphonse had been unmoving since he'd walked in. He was also stunned by the trust displayed here, any ordinary Ishvalan would have been hesitant to be so open about his race to a soldier. Perhaps it was naïveté, the voice sounded young.

"Thank you for that explanation. And your name is..."

"Alphonse."

"Alphonse, judging by your voice, I don't think you're much older than your brother. Do you really fit into that suit of armor?"

Alphonse was silent for a long pause. The air seemed to stop and stay still around them.

"...N-no." The echoed, metallic voice cracked. "It's...it's a l-long story, and you don't know the h-half of it, we're sorry, we're so sorry, we didn't mean it, we..." the voice trailed off, then stopped.

Mustang's confidence was fading back to his old doubts. Just ten minutes ago he had no idea these two boys were half Ishavalan, and that raised several problems. First, if they accepted the invitation he was about to extend, all three of them might get into trouble with the State. Second, he already knew they practiced alchemy, but what were two Ishvalan boys doing studying a forbidden science? Was it right for him to encourage them further into it?

Mustang sighed, looking at Al, then Ed, then Pinako. "I want to offer these boys the option of becoming State Alchemists."

"No." The statement was barely out of Mustang's mouth before Pinako gave her stern reply. "I won't let you make these kids the _dogs_ of the _military_." she almost spat the words, her voice dripping with contempt.

Mustang shrugged, turning to walk out the door.

"I won't force these two into anything. But, should they be interested, give me a call at my office in Central." He slipped a card with numbers scribbled in pen on the counter as he walked through the kitchen. He continued out the door and into the pouring rain, carefully closing the door behind him.

Pinako flipped the lock with more than enough force than was necessary.

* * *

**I like this chapter. That's all I have to say about it, really.  
**

**As of right now this is on a "I post when the chapter's done" schedule. Will that change? Probably not. Sorry. **

**Thanks for reading !**


	3. To Set in Motion

Ed spent days drifting in and out of sleep, his dreams and waking thoughts much the same. What a completely useless, horrible person he was.

His little brother, the one he'd give anything to protect, was trapped in an unfeeling metal body with only a fragile connection to his soul. It killed Ed to think that his own mistakes had made Al this way. Al had been against the idea of human transmutation from the start, only going along because his older brother was unshakeably stubborn. While Al had learned a lot during their years of preparation, and was grateful for it, he kept asking if what they were doing was right every now and again, right up until the minute they both laid their hands on the transmutation circle.

If only Ed had listened. His age didn't make him any wiser, and even if it did, Al was only a year younger. Al was thoughtful, kind, and pondered every possible outcome and its effects on others... while Ed was impulsive and made rash decisions without completely thinking through the consequences. It would be a tough habit to break, but Ed vowed to himself he'd give his little brother's worries some more credit, or at the very least, start thinking things through.

As soon as he was well enough to sit up, he hit the books once more, reading everything left in Hoenheim's study. With all the things those books had taught him, it'd be impossible not to find some sort of clue for getting Al back what he deserved — to be whole again.

The days passed slowly with much reading but no progress, and Ed's mind kept drifting back to the rainy night where that Mustang guy literally barged into their lives. After Granny and Winry left the room to let him sleep, he'd confronted Alphonse about the "number" Mustang had said to call.

"He left a little slip of paper with something written on it, on the counter by the door," Alphonse whispered in a metallic tone, "But Granny put it in a drawer." Ed nodded slightly, looking up to the ceiling, thoughts brewing in his head. Al recognized the look on his face, and moved so he was right in his older brother's line of sight.

The unmoving metal face whispered ominously, "Don't do anything rash, brother."

Ed sighed, coming back to the present. The serenity of the rural, hilly landscape stretching far beyond the Rockbell house's porch contrasted his scattered thoughts. His eyes scanned the last paragraph of this page, then he halfheartedly flipped to the next one.

And froze.

_The Sanguin Star. The Grand Elixir. The Red Tincture. Though it goes by many names, the Philosopher's Stone is known by many as a substance which amplifies alchemical powers, spreading rumors among alchemists that it is even able to bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange __—_

"Bypass... the Law... of..." Ed was suddenly very dizzy.

He forced himself to sit and _read_ — not skim, like his brain was trying in an attempt to absorb everything at once — every word on the page. Then he read it again, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. On his third read, he realized he knew about this somewhere in the back of his mind. He must've seen the Philosopher's Stone at the Gate. Now he was convinced this was his answer.

Finding one answer only led to more roadblocks, and he was stumped by how he might even begin to look for the Philosopher's Stone. Ed sighed, quite loudly, slumping back in his wheelchair as his left hand flipped the cover of the book shut.

The sharp ringing of the phone through the half-open door was what caused him to bolt awake; he hadn't even noticed he'd fallen asleep. The sound stopped abruptly mid-ring when Pinako answered it. There was silence for a few moments before she spoke, Ed only caught a few words of the conversation but it sounded like she was relaying instructions for some automail maintenance.

Later, Ed would recall that exact moment as the time when everything began to set in motion, when he realized he was sitting on the porch of his answer. The gears of his head began to turn in the formulation of another plan. Bitterly, he thought of how his last plan had ended in miserable failure, but pushed the thought out of his head. He then remembered his promise to Alphonse of how he'd try to avoid being impulsive. Fine. His plan would need another step.

* * *

Alphonse had been right, the card Mustang had left was in the drawer under the phone, and on it was printed a phone number, with a shorter number under it.

Granny Pinako was away, on the first shopping trip she'd had since that night. She was hesitant to leave the kids alone, but with a week having passed since that night and several since her last trip, the holes in the stores of the pantry were growing larger. Alphonse and Winry were in the next room over, Ed had asked Al to keep Winry occupied so he could make his phone call in peace.

Despite being forced to use his non-dominant hand for everything now, it was still very shaky. It took a while to put in the number, with each digit entered carefully, but Ed managed and the line began to ring. An operator prompted him for a "code", and he read the other number on the card with the hope that would put him through.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang," answered the other end.

Ed panicked, suddenly forgetting his train of thought. With a deep breath, he began, "Uh, hello, it's Edward. Edward Elric. You came to see me about-"

"About becoming a state alchemist. Yes, I remember." Mustang interrupted him. "And I assume you're calling ragarding your decision on that matter?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you a question." Ed paused. "Why would you want me to be a state alchemist? And what's it even like?"

There was a short chuckle on Mustang's end, but then a long, heavy sigh. "Kid, I'm not going to lie to you. It's the military. You're under orders. And I can tell you, there's some things I'd have rather not done." another sigh. "But if you look past that, it's an opportunity for you, and I know that right now you're in need of some opportunities."

"Yes. I am. I... I think I found a way to get my brother his body back."

"And that's just what I'm talking about. If you can pass that exam, it'll mean a way for you to possibly achieve that goal."

_Possibly. _Ed spent a minute processing what he'd just heard. "Alright. Uh, thank you. Sir."

_Click_.

The phone was hung up. The card went back into the desk drawer, just as it was before. Ed used his leg to push himself away from the counter, then turned the wheelchair around and sat, pondering his options. At this point, the military was seeming like the best option, but there was still one thing he would need. Or rather, two things.

Al and Winry helped to put everything away after she arrived home, then Pinako rolled Ed back to his room so she could change his bandages. While she did so, Ed made his final decision. There was no going back.

"Granny... There's some money, in the house. It's under the stairs. I want you to take it-"

"Oh Ed, you don't need to worry about that." Pinako chastised.

"No, I want you to take it, and give me automail."

"Automail."

"Yes. And with it, I'm going to become a state alchemist."

Pinako finished wrapping the bandage and sat down on the bed beside him. "Why would you need to do that? State alchemists aren't good, Ed."

"Maybe I'll be the first, then. I need to fix things, and that's the only way I know I can."

"Well. I'm not your m-" Pinako cut herself off quickly. "I'm not in charge of you. I like to think I am, but no one can stop you, really. Not when you have your mind set to do something, no matter how far fetched it is. If you say you'll get your brother's body back, then I'm sure you will."

* * *

**So it's been a... month? since I updated this? Not too long, but still, I didn't intend for that long of a gap.  
**

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	4. To Surprise

Al carried Ed up the porch and through the house. The boys' old house seemed empty and deserted, but Ed was too preoccupied with his growing anxiety to fully experience his surroundings. In the present moment, everything seemed to hinge on having enough money saved for automail.

Ever so carefully he was set down just inside the stair closet, Al helping him to sit up. With a hand cold from nerves, he opened the tin of saved cens and began to count; he slowly and methodically set aside groups of a hundred – a simple, but foolproof method. Knowing it was best to leave the task to Ed, Al sat beside him in silence.

Everything in the box was counted, and if he'd counted right, it was enough. His anxieties started to melt away.

If.

Ed began to doubt himself, insisting aloud to Al that he had to recount and be sure. To his relief the second count only confirmed the first. He was starting to return the cens to the tin when Al pointed to something Ed had previously set aside.

It was a small, black, cloth pouch that had been at the top of the tin when he opened it. Ed grabbed the pouch, stuck his hand in, and pulled out the contents. His eyebrows scrunched together in a look of confusion. "A ring?"

The ring was simple, a polished silver with a smooth edge and no markings other than a few scratches.

"Wait," Al said, noticing the inside face of the ring. "There's something written there."

Ed held it up towards the light and squinted. "Ah, I can't really read it…it's kind of dark in here."

"Just take it with us," replied Al. "Maybe we'll be able to read it outside."

They made their way back as they came, through the deserted but familiar house. Once outside, Al prompted Ed to try and read the ring again. Though it was getting late, the sun still made for a bright reading lamp.

"Eeehh…aahh… something something… about 'Ishvala'," relayed Ed. "I can't read it all, it's in some fancy script and some of the words are rubbed off. Do you think it has something to do… with… m-mom then?" It was obvious Ed was still trying to avoid thinking about their mother.

"Yeah. If it says 'Ishvala' on it then I bet it's mom's. But then I don't think it was given to her by Dad or anything, she never talked about him thinking about that stuff, I wonder where she got it?" said Al.

"I don't know," Ed trailed off at the end of his sentence, getting lost in a train of thought.

* * *

Later that night, Winry found Ed at the dinner table, aimlessly fidgeting with something.

She walked up and sat down in the chair to his left. "It's late, Ed. What are you doing up – and what's that?"

"This…?" he moved his head to look at her briefly, then gazed back at the ring. He spun it around on the wooden table surface. "When Al and I went to get the stuff at the house, we found it. We think it's mom's." The ring made a soft metallic sound as it spun.

"I don't know what to do with it." he continued.

Winry reached out a hand, and he placed the ring in her palm. She inspected it thoroughly. "It's pretty neat. Nice metal, 'cause it seems like not too much wear, but then again, the inside words are kinda rubbed off. Though if she wore it a lot, that might explain that."

"I don't remember her wearing it. Maybe she did."

"Are you gonna keep it?"

"Why, gearhead? Do _you_ want it?"

"Don't be mean! No, I was just wondering. You said you don't know what to do with it. I think you should keep it though. It's important to hold on to things like that."

"Yeah, I'd love to keep it. It's kinda special, y'know? But now that I have the money for automail, I'll be off. I have plans. How would I keep this with me without losing it? I'll probably have to leave it here."

Winry paused a minute, resting her head on her hand. She took another look at the ring. "Mm, I have an idea of what you can do with it."

"What?"

"It's a secret. Do you trust me?"

Ed waited a minute, giving a fake look of deep thought. Winry scowled, and he smiled. "No, I do. Does that mean you're keeping it?"

"Just for now. You'll see it later, I promise."

And with that, she stood up and walked out.

* * *

"Al, get out!"

That was the third time he'd been shooed out of the operating room. He resigned to sitting on the floor just outside the door and tried to take his mind off things.

It'd been a few hours since Ed's automail surgery had begun. Right up until today, Granny Pinako had been somewhat reluctant, but eventually gave in. Al had no idea if the surgery was going well, and neither Rockbell would say anything to him. He'd just have to wait it out.

His mind was racing. What if something goes wrong? What if automail hurts Ed more than it helps? What if the way he lost the limbs makes the surgery too difficult…?

Al wanted to be there for Ed, and support him. He knew how much this meant to his brother right now, and how his brother had plans for getting Al his body back. As much as Al wished for that outcome, he still remained the brother who refused to be impulsive. It wasn't simply a game of searching, it was playing with the very rules of alchemy itself, and Al didn't know how they could work around those. His brother was setting out on an impossible task, and it was all Al's fault. If only…

Coulda, woulda, shoulda, and what if… it was a problematic thought process, and he hated it. The past was behind them and hindsight was 20/20. The best thing to do now was be his brother's support, and perhaps curb some of his impulsive decisions that might get him hurt. The best thing Al could do was go with him. He couldn't even think about staying here alone, and he hoped Ed would feel the same way. Whatever Ed's plan, they would brave the world together.

He closed his eyes. He wished he could sleep, to stop consciously thinking for just a moment. Over the last few weeks Al had become very aware of his own thought processes. The ability to think inside one's own mind was incredible. Without the break from his own self he used to be able to have, though, it sometimes became tedious and draining. He sighed – mentally, since his metal body couldn't. Oh well. All this was his own fault.

Al didn't know how much longer it was until Granny Pinako opened the door. He looked up towards her, and she nodded. "He's fine. He just needs some rest."

To his amazement, after just a short rest of their own the Rockbells were in the kitchen, making dinner.

"Here, let me pitch in!" Al insisted. How these two never grew tired amazed him. His metal body couldn't be physically tired, but were he in their situation his mental energy would have been sapped. Al's hands were big and bulky, but he was just beginning to get the hang of them and proved to be a wonderful help in the kitchen.

Perhaps it was the smell of stew that woke Ed. Perhaps it was the sting of the medicine beginning to wear off, with a dull ache in his sockets and an occasional prick of pain. Perhaps it was the nightmare he had, in which Al – the old Al, the Right Al – was falling down a deep, dark hole, and Ed couldn't reach out to save him because his arm was missing.

Whatever it was that woke him, he decided to stay awake. He sat up, quickly wiped the tears in his eyes with his left hand, and then looked down at his new right arm.

He flexed his fingers, and the automail responded. It was incredible. He moved his left leg under the sheet. He looked back at his arm, moving the forearm back and forth at the elbow, rotating the wrist, flexing the fingers again. Something on the hand gleamed in the light and caught his eye.

It was the ring, built into one of the segments of his fourth finger, right where one would put a ring on a flesh hand. It wasn't welded in, but more like another, separate piece fit into the great puzzle. It wasn't out of place. It seemed right.

"Like it?" Winry stood in the doorway, smiling.

* * *

**This took forever to get written (aka motivated to write), but here it is! Not a bad chapter, I think. Bet you were wondering what I was gonna do with that ring huh? Don't worry. It's still important.  
**

**Thanks for reading !**


	5. Strange Calm

The great eastern desert did not extend into the border of Amestris. This is what the people believed. Somewhere after the rocky gray mountains and rolling hills of the farm country, the grass must suddenly stop and give way to the endless expanse of sand. It wasn't a logical thing to believe, and yet the minds of the city folk could not imagine it otherwise, for in their imagination the idea of a desert was so far removed from what was Amestrian and the lives they led.

Past the rich farmland east of the city and suburbia, the grass did give way to a seemingly endless expanse of sand. Between the extremes of rolling hills and rolling sand dunes fell a middle ground of red mining country and hardy orchards. The rivers of the rocky gray mountains fell to the green foothills and cut their way through the soft earth, and the earth soaked the water up, becoming malleable to the whims of agriculture. Much of the river was strong enough to resist the dirt, and so carried on to carve a path through the red country - but by the time the water had filtered through the green country and the red country, it had lost its motivation, and so gave up to the power of the sun and fled to the sky. And the wind carried the water away, back to the gray mountains, where it would become heavy and fall to the ground.  
From the starting point, it would repeat its attempts to push through into the desert. The water was never strong enough to push past the mining country. The strength of the water deteriorated to a calm ribbon of blue. Red faded, gradually, slowly, from the damp clay - until it dried and broke apart, smaller and smaller, into the fine grains of golden sand. The sand ate up the sunlight as the dirt drank the water of the rivers, to the point that the rare scattered rains could not pierce the gold expanse. Mirages appeared in every dip of the dunes, created by the sweltering heat. The rays of the sun danced through the air and bounced off the sand; forming themselves into infinite barriers, they sapped the strength of any organism which tried to push past.  
Blue found a new place in the sky, stretching out and past the horizon. The absence of clouds allowed the sun to beat mercilessly in the day, and the moon to sap the heat from the air in the night. Occasionally a wind would blow through and shape the fragile land, its behavior dependent upon the conditions of the hour. Warm gusts would suffocate and choke, wrapping around like an inescapable blanket of heat; they were great masses which seemed to move slowly and indecisively. Cool breezes were like needles, thin and silvery and cutting. They dropped temperatures and raised goosebumps, froze fingers and triggered dull aches in lungs.  
The fragile land cared not for the excess or lack of heat in the wind, as it was shaped by it regardless, dunes toppling and new ones built in the same invisible push.  
And yet, the unforgiving land was beautiful, washed in colors one had never seen in nature before watching a sunrise in the desert. The region swung violently between the extremes of hot and cold - reflected in the orange and red hues of day and the tranquil blues and purples of night. The sky exploded with a burst of fire to welcome the rising sun, and saluted its descent with a majestic display that rotated through the color wheel.  
The desert still held an ominous beauty when broken stone and concrete of ruined cities protruded from the ground, tarnished with the burns of fire, blown apart past the point of repair, dented and chipped by projectile impact. The winds blew sand over and around the pieces and hid them, misleading one to believe they were old relics of ancient past.

Less than a decade isn't ancient.

It is a common theme throughout history to misinterpret that which does not belong to you. Whether that be a time or a place, a culture or a people, romanticism is rampant, and easy; one simply takes the whole picture and cuts out the parts they like, then pastes them back into an idealized form. And as history repeated itself once more, the sands of Ishaval became something faraway and distant. The war was romanticized for the the victors, and the whole thing was "solved".

It was sad, really.

* * *

It's been a while...! Since this is a super short chapter I wanted to do I double update with the next one, but it's giving me grief, so I'll just update with this for now. The next one is probably a third the way, I'm just trying to get it right with the wording and solidify the next move in the plot.

If you've read Grapes of Wrath, that was a little of the inspiration here (it's kinda obvious... haha oops). I really like the intercalary chapters and the way they set things up. Also, GoW lowkey fits the FMA03 aesthetic... I've got a headcanon that's the direction post-CoS goes, actually...

Happy New Year!


	6. To Depart

The natural landscape of Risembool made it difficult to see the changing of the seasons. The grass plains' only changes were the absence of crops due to the harvest, and the forest to the northern border was composed of the kinds of trees that vehemently refused to change color. The higher temperatures of the East didn't fluctuate much more than ten or twelve degrees. There was a barely perceptible increase in rain during the winter. The tiniest nuances were obvious only to those who had lived in the small town for years.

"Yup – Al, looks like it's Autumn." Ed said, as he passed by the hallway mirror and stopped when he noticed himself.

Al, who had been walking behind him, paused too. "Autumn started about a month ago, brother," he replied.

"I know that." Ed was inspecting his flesh arm. "But it isn't _really_ Autumn until the tan starts to fade."

The boys were "fairly dark complexioned", as Ed would hear people who chose their words carefully say, all year round. During the summer, Winry would get burned badly in the heat, but the brothers' skin seemed to soak up the sun into a dark tan instead. As he got older, Ed started to notice, and became almost proud of his seeming invincibility to sunburns. He also noticed the glances from people passing by when he and Al sat out on the porch in August.

What Ed saw now in the mirror was the same phenomenon that occurred every year – he'd fade from the stare-inducing light brown back to an olive color through fall and winter, then the cycle would repeat as the sun shone more through spring and summer. It happened to Al, too, but he stayed darker than Ed during the winter, probably because Al took more after their mom.

He lost interest in his arm and moved his focus to his face. His hair was messy – he woke up just an hour ago and hadn't bothered to brush it – bangs hanging in a disorganized fashion, a few good knots scattered about. Ed made a face at the color, a whitish-blonde that one didn't see every day. Then again, he didn't think there were many kids like himself and Al.

From the side, Al watched his reflection in the mirror. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine his old self in place of the metal he saw. He had been a little kid, with his short, ruffled brown hair constantly falling in his face. He had smiled often, and his eyes were always big with excitement and curiosity. In contrast, his brother always seemed too serious. Al felt he needed to smile enough for the both of them.

Ed's face still looked too serious now, as he combed through his bangs with his flesh fingers, eyes narrowed in a perpetual and involuntary scowl. The light of the morning was making the red in his eyes shine through over the usual brown. Al wondered if his eyes would've done the same.

* * *

A few weeks had passed since Ed had been fitted with his new arm and leg. Life had been slow and quiet at the Rockbell house. Ed was lost in thought more often than not, and every once and a while he'd say a word or two about the upcoming exam for new state alchemists. After a week or two without him mentioning it, Winry asked Al if Ed had reconsidered. Quite the opposite, Al told her. He's growing impatient.

The impatience grew like a tumor as the days crawled by. Ed was almost silent, and the air around him seemed to be still, as if time had stopped and he was lost in his own thoughts. Al saw the metaphorical gears in Ed's head constantly turning. Winry noticed the anxious stims – Ed chewed the inside of his cheek and bounced his right heel on the ground when he started to stare off into space. When he sparred with Al, he'd get reckless with frustration, and Al would suddenly grab him by the shoulders and firmly say, "Stop. You're not gonna get anywhere fighting like that."

Finally, the day came when his metal leg wouldn't buckle underneath him as he walked down the stairs of the porch. Finally, he could feel his arm and know its movements just as clearly as if it'd been nerves, not wires, beneath the metal plates. Finally, he felt somewhat whole again. That night, he told Al his plan in full.

It was the day after that they told Winry and Pinako they were leaving. Granny and Winry sat still and emotionless at the dinner table as Al delicately finished Ed's fiery sentences, describing how he would aim to become a State Alchemist in order to fix all he'd broken.

Then, Winry cracked a smile. "I know I can't stop you. But please be careful, okay?"

"We will, Winry," Al said quietly, turning his head to look at his dear friend's face. Ed only nodded, his fire gone as soon as he saw the anxiety and lonely sadness in Winry's eyes. He absentmindedly traced a line in the wood of the kitchen table.

Pinako visage changed as she sat in thought, but she didn't speak. How was she supposed to explain how Risembool was not at all like the outside world? The town, though geographically large, was made mostly of the farmland which separated one from their neighbors. Truly, Pinako wasn't sure how well the boys would do in the city, surrounded by unfamiliar people and places. Part of her worried they'd be overwhelmed and out of their element, suddenly thrust into a new way of life as a State Alchemist in which Ed would loose that element of control over his own life which he so desperately clung to. Another part of her, however, knew their strength of will and versatility would keep them safe.

She sighed. "The next train on the route to Central leaves in two days. Don't tell me you're going so soon."

"I'm sorry Granny, but we are." Ed replied.

And if, after saying that, Ed's resolution ever faltered, it was not obvious. Even though he stared up at the ceiling that night and wondered over and over if he was doing the right thing, no one else could hear those thoughts. Alphonse sensed his big brother wasn't really asleep, but never spoke to question it.

One day before their departure, Ed pulled Al aside to show him the outfit he'd put together – black pants, leather jacket, a navy shirt, and a pair of boots. Folded to the side was some plain red cloth.

"What do ya think, Al? Pretty cool, right?"

It was almost childish, both the outfit and his behavior. Some part of him knew it, and Al knew it, but something unspoken between them agreed to indulge in the hero's costume Ed had created.

"Definitely cool," Al laughed, "And it suits you." Ed beamed. "But what's with the cloth?"

"Oh, I uh…" Ed looked down at it, just a little sheepishly. "Y'know, how uh, red is a special color – you'd see it around a lot." _In Ishval,_ he didn't have to say. "I just don't quite know what to do with it."

"To do with it?"

"Yeah. A scarf would be pretty traditional, but… I'd stick out. And something like a cape would make me look more like a little kid."

Al thought for a moment. "…An overcoat? I don't know, you already have the other jacket. Give me a minute to think of something better–"

"No!…No. I like that idea." Ed smiled. Now not only was the color special, but the cloth's design was the idea of his little brother. The thought made him happy. _I'm so… is sentimental the right word? It's not one I would think to describe myself with. Yet…_

Al had already drawn half of a circle on the floor in light, dusty chalk. "Here, help me with this. I think the basics of making that cloth into a coat would be like this-" he pointed out a couple lines in the circle- "but double-check it for me?"

Perhaps sentimental _was_ the right word.

* * *

Clouds rolled in overnight. Heavy, dark, foreboding clouds, ones that towered into the sky like ominous skyscrapers hanging overhead. And so the day of their departure, the boys woke to a storm. Ed's chest tightened as he looked out the window. A trail of lightning blazed across the sky. His right shoulder, where metal connected to skin, ached like he'd never felt before. It reminded him terribly of That Day, and he shivered involuntarily.

The exciting newness of his outfit was foreshadowed by the sense of dread hanging in his stomach. He was not one to believe in some otherworldly divine symbol, yet the back of his mind kept warning him that _this was an omen_. His overcoat blazed fierce red as he looked in the mirror, washing out his braided bleach-blonde hair, but all he could focus on was the way the fabric moved as his hands shook.

Some of his anxiety was quelled as he gazed on the breakfast Winry and Granny had laid out on the table. What did he ever do to deserve them? They, as well as Al, were already seated, so Ed chose the chair across from Winry and adjacent to Al and plucked a muffin from the center of the spread.

Few words were exchanged at the table. Winry found her breakfast fascinating, and barely looked up. Every time thunder rumbled distantly outside, she would jump in her seat.

Because of the rain, Ed insisted she and Granny Pinako stay inside rather than walk them to the station. He smiled at them as he pulled his hood over his head, hesitating a moment before turning out into the storm. The brothers took off down the muddy path, slowly disappearing into the grey haze.

Ed looked over his shoulder, and watched their house – not the bright yellow Rockbell estate, but _their_ house – disappear behind the hill. A flash of lightening illuminated its silhouette, and Ed couldn't help but be reminded of that day, and the stained floor of the basement, and how the ache of his joints in the rain was nothing compared to the searing pain of a missing limb. A piece of him wondered if destroying this physical representation of his bitterness might dampen those memories. Despite the chilling rain, his face felt hot, as if standing next to a fire.

From inside the Rockbell house, Winry saw the same flash of lightning cross the sky. She turned to the calendar by the phone and drew a raincloud in the space marked October 3rd.

* * *

**[boston voice] it's been such a long time-**

**Ooo, I hope this chapter turned out as ok as I think it did. It was a little hard to get the wording just right on some of the description, but I think I managed?**

**iirc October 3rd was the day they came back after the assessment. For the sake of the timeline in my head, I might be changing some dates.  
**

**Thanks for reading!**


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